by Andrea Jones
Casting his gaze about the waters, Nibs spotted the craft as Jewel pointed it out to Smee. The bo’sun craned to examine it, then waved to it. Soon Nibs’ brothers, the twins, shot alongside in their canoe, floating swiftly by with Lily aboard. She and Smee exchanged greetings. She blew a kiss to him, but glided past the ship. The Men of the Clearing hailed the Red Lady.
Captain Cecco must have expected Lily. Having sent most of his men to the Roger to carouse this last night, he himself hurried down the gangway to escort Lily aboard. Nibs saw the flash of Lily’s bracelet as Cecco pulled her up, reflecting the lights of the party. The Roger’s glow also illuminated the wild, tawny hair of the Men of the Clearing. Just like Nibs and Tom, they had their own means of boarding. They stowed their paddles, tied their canoe to Cecco’s vessel, then floated up as if swimming with the breeze to join their brothers for one last evening.
Nibs felt a kind of melancholy tonight, and he delayed the reunion. Instead, he watched Smee as Smee watched his Lily. The bo’sun’s fingers flexed and fisted, but once she disappeared from his view— inside the captain’s quarters— Smee returned to his duty, overseeing the Roger’s festivities. Yet Nibs noted that Smee kept vigil on Red Lady as keenly as the sailors kept vigil on the bay. Lily, it seemed, was Smee’s ‘mermaid.’ And, like a falling block, a realization struck Nibs. He needed a mermaid, too. He had friends; he had lovers and brothers; he had officers whom he respected and a mother to guide and advise him. But what Nibs wanted was a woman of his own. A lady whose love was all his.
Nibs was astounded by this revelation. As he perched there considering the idea, he felt suddenly off balance. And this time, he was startled by something more ethereal, even, than his thoughts. An unearthly sound emerged from the surf, and the flesh crept up on his arms. Had his wishing made it happen? Had Nibs’ hungry heart called a sea-maid from the depths? Staring about him, he saw the other men stop their gaming, to listen. Each man’s eyes began searching, too, and a hush fell over the ship.
Seeping through the boards, beneath the decks and through them, the eerie song entered their ears. All around the Roger, bubbles burbled up, and, as they met the air and ruptured, the sleek, seal-like heads of sirens came to surface. Sailors lined the gunwales now, their jaws hanging open, and the breath arrested in their lungs. Like a parting gift from the Island, the mermaids had circled, to bid the pirates goodbye.
At first Nibs felt a twinge of disappointment. But through his ventures on the sea, he’d learned to be skeptical. His common sense returned. Suspicious now, he glanced toward his friends. His hunch was correct. Most of the officers, like Smee and Yulunga, stood braced and ready to hold their men back. They navigated the deck, on guard to seize any jumpers. Yet among the officers and crew, one man appeared unsurprised and unconcerned. Dressed in his blue and red uniform, Guillaume stood beaming beside Tom and the twins. Now that Guillaume had won an alliance with the merfolk, no doubt he’d suggested this treat.
The sailors, while enraptured, made no move to desert. The song resonating round the bay was plaintive, poignant. The female voices combined, in harmony, to rise and to fall like the sea, unceasing— to crest and recede, and never to let a man rest. This time, Nibs sensed, the song of the sirens was meant not to lure the men’s bodies, but to hold the men’s souls. Not unaffected himself, he rubbed his nose. Another look round the ship showed Nibs that he wasn’t alone. His mates shared his feeling: these songs were less treacherous than those crooned at the Mermaids’ Lagoon, yet this music felt so heartrending that it, too, might turn deadly.
Smee could be seen to heave a deep sigh, and look once again for his Lily. He wiped his spectacles on his kerchief. Nibs sympathized with Smee’s sentiment. All of a sudden, it seemed that to part with these females, or the Indian ladies, or any other element of the Island, was impossible. But Nibs soon forgot about Smee. Like the others, he leaned on the gunwale, he looked to the sky. From the very stars that whirled round the Neverland, the song shimmered back like a cloudburst of musical light, until, betwixt masts and yards, between heaven and sea, the atmosphere quavered with heartache.
How long did this enchantment last? Nibs couldn’t guess. Here in the Neverland, time was dicey. Just like the mergirls, it couldn’t be counted upon. One by one, their voices diminished, their lovely heads sank away. The mermaids’ chorus dwindled to solo. When the sound ceased, sinking beneath the waves, the sailors blinked, and looked around, each man surprised to find himself in company, amazed by the gift, and feeling fortunate to hear it through to its end— still alive.
Before the song, the men had been wary, on guard against those mermaids. After it, they reckoned they understood. They were sailors, taking port call on the Neverland. Every stay here offered its wonders, and every incident posed its warnings. No precaution could protect them. And yet…what other island could compare?
For Nibs, now, the search had begun. His was not a quest to find a place to call home. Home was here. His challenge was to seek someplace new to him. What Nibs sought was the island of his true love’s abode. Somewhere, she bided, waiting for him. His heart beat quicker as he thought of her, just as cruelly as it beat while the mermaids sang their serenade. The crinkle between his eyebrows deepened. Nibs was determined. He’d win her heart, and then he’d carry her home.
The fiddle sang again, inspired by the sea’s song, but paling in comparison. Nibs joined Guillaume, and his brothers. His brooding features brightened. After all, this night was the last night in port.
✽ ✽ ✽
As the woods fell to dusk, the fairies weaved and bobbed above their hollows, their lights illuminating their circle in spurts, like the flicker of embers at the death of a bonfire.
But the night had only begun, and as the birds nestled into the forest surrounding the Fairy Glade, peeping their sleepy last, the fairy musicians could be heard, tuning their instruments. Their strings produced a sound very like the noise Jewel made when she stamped across the keys of Hook’s harpsichord.
Lovely as a fairy herself, Jill glided into the circle to alight on the grass. Hook settled beside her, his hair somewhat mussed by the breeze, but the blue plume secure on his hat, pinned in place with an opal brooch. Their feet were bare, damp now with the remnants of the rain, yet the couple displayed their best garb— Jill in a full-skirted taffeta gown, golden, Hook handsome as he flaunted his best blouse, tawny silk trimmed in lace and tucked into brown velvet breeches. His waistcoat was rich with embroidery. Jill’s jewels glimmered like fairy dust at her throat, arms, and ankles. Hook’s five fingers glowed with gems, and the filigree gleamed on his earring.
Jill gazed at her lover, taking pleasure in his appearance, as always. But this time, a new element entered in. “Your feather looks jaunty, Hook.”
“A feather in my cap, and, if rumors bloom of my dalliance with an unnamed native lady, it offers another reason for our enemies to doubt our devotion.”
“It is a token to protect me, in the way that my wedding band does.” Jill’s demeanor remained pleasant, but she struck a serious note. “And, to you, your liaison with Raven is as meaningful as my marriage to Cecco.”
“I have learned never to endeavor to hide an emotion from you. Yes, my love. Raven aided me, in much the same manner Captain Cecco aided you.” He smiled, ironic. “If, unfortunately, more briefly.”
“Well and bravely stated, Hook. Your liberality is tried. As in all things, I am your counterpart, for I, too, find myself tested.”
“You bear it well, my dear. And you, at least, hold the comfort of knowing that your rival will soon depart for what seems to be forever.”
“I shall ensure that you do not miss her.”
“Begin at once.” Hook took Jill in his arms and they entered into a kiss, surrounded by the emerald woodland, among the magical creatures who flew about them, shimmering in the shining light of the Fairy Glade, under the stars.
Clinging to Hook’s substantial shoulders for support, Jill caught her breath. “
Perhaps it is only the fairies’ activity, but I believe I must sit down.”
The couple took their places on the loveseat, careful not to block the mirrors on its backrest, so that the fairies could primp before the music commenced. Hook and Jill acknowledged the creatures as they came to admire their reflections, nodding their compliments to each.
“An excellent choice, Hook, to spend our last evening here.” Jill inhaled the moist air. “How fresh the rain made the atmosphere.” She surveyed the fairy garden, its clusters of blooms full and fragrant. “I can almost hear the flowers drinking it up. And I never witnessed such brilliant rainbows as this afternoon provided.”
“Our Mr. Smee claimed the same. It seems that even the isle of his birth cannot match this paradise.”
“The rainbows fairly bounced about the sky this afternoon, just as our hosts are doing now.” Jill’s eyes danced as her gaze followed the fairies. But soon her observation left the Glade itself, and delved farther, into the forest. “But are we not at risk, in the open here?”
“My love, we are safer here than anywhere else on the Island. The fairies will sense any malevolence that approaches, and they will hide away before I can draw my sword.” His weapon stood propped against the bench, in a niche specially commissioned from Wittles to hold it within easy reach. Jill herself bore the weight and the beauty of the gem-studded dagger in her sash. Hook drew Jill closer. “But I sense you are not yet at ease.”
“Aye, Hook,” she said, and hesitated. “Of course I’m delighted to enjoy this lovely place, and to spend this quiet time with you.”
“And yet?”
“Yet I am desolate that this night is the last of our sojourn here.”
The lovers dropped their voices as the dancers took their places. The orchestra’s tootling turned to a melody. The listeners held contentment, and yet they were saddened. Hook and Jill felt the tug that each of their sailors was experiencing, back in the bay. Jill murmured under the music, “Island magic cradles us, in the same way the sea’s will soon do. The gifts of each place are generous, but it is impossible to enjoy them both at once.”
Hook observed, “Have you not discovered by now, Jill? In all aspects of life, grief seasons gladness.”
Jill nodded. To gain one blessing was to lose the other, and some regret lay in the choosing of either setting. In this frame of mind, it seemed, those mortals who indulged in fairy music were most profoundly affected by it. Bolstered by Hook’s loving presence, yet Jill felt her heart lower, and the tears pricked her eyelids.
And, for Jill, the evening held another source of tension. Tomorrow, at midday, she must end her marriage to Lean Wolf.
Hook shared her unease, sensing it with his soul as well as through his nearness to her body. His cares were simpler. Where Jill was anxious to prevail in her battle, her lover feared more for her safety. And one other unknown loomed over them. Jill was thinking of that aspect, too.
“Jill.” Speaking low, Hook pressed his single hand to her knee. “As promised, I shall attend you. Cecco, too, has sworn to be your protector.”
“You know that I trust Cecco implicitly. But, Hook, what if his jealousy should interfere with his judgment?”
“You assured me that in his handling of Doctor Hanover, Cecco plied his gypsy skills. He kept his head, even while you seemed to desert him.”
At the mention of the doctor, Jill’s anxiety tautened, like a knot, and crimped in her stomach. “It is true. And yet, after all, Cecco lives under the same curse as my other husbands. Supposing that, for all the care I’ve put into it, my scheme misfires? Supposing not only Lean Wolf, but Cecco, too, falls victim to his passions?”
“Jill, the moment is not too late to change your plans. Both Captain Cecco and I await your command. My sword is at your service.” Eager, Hook’s eyes took on a tint of crimson. “Shall I have the pleasure of killing Lean Wolf?”
His intensity thrilled her, but her good sense prevailed. “What of the war you believe his murder might provoke?”
“Murder is one thing. Protection is another. The Silent Hunter’s actions threaten every female on this Island, and all your sons, too.”
“Greater reasons for me to deal justice to him myself. I was a child here, with childish dreams. I am a woman, now, with other women to defend, and other children to protect.” Jill shook her head. “No, Hook, this task is mine.”
“On one single subject, Captain Cecco and I agree with no reservation. We both wish to preserve you from violence. And Cecco is correct, Jill. You intend, tomorrow, to kill a man outright. You cannot know how such an act will affect you.”
“You tempt me to take the easy course. But I must honor the power that inhabited me in Lean Wolf’s lair on the night he abducted me. I employed that power to save my life, and I made a vow to follow through.” She raised her bloodstained hand. “I am Red Hand from the Sea. I am the wife of the warrior Lean Wolf.” She declared, “I shall slay Lean Wolf. And I will lay him to rest in his tomb. Through its passages, he may wander the Dark Hunting grounds.”
Hook’s features sharpened. “I have every confidence in you, and I have faith in Captain Cecco’s intentions. But in the event that his emotions rise to interfere with your plans, even so, you and I must be prepared.”
“Aye,” Jill asserted, her teeth setting with determination. “I am prepared.” The mass of the dagger weighted her sash, and, absently, she toyed with her wedding band. As the fairy pageantry unfolded before her, Jill saw, in her mind’s eye, another rite. Not a fest of frivolity, like tonight’s display from the fairies, but different dance. A sacrament to perform with her husband.
A dance of death.
Like the death of a bonfire, Jill thought. Lean Wolf, the Silent Hunter, had sparked a flame within her. No one but Red-Handed Jill could slake this conflagration. It was up to Jill, alone, to feed this fire, until it burned down to ash.
✽ ✽ ✽
Cecco and Lily stretched out upon his bunk, gazing at the Neverland through the windows of the Red Lady’s stern. The Island’s trees and beaches lay silvery in the starlight, mysterious, yet familiar even at a distance.
Sounds from the Roger drifted in, sounds Lily was used to hearing, but that after tonight she would miss— men’s voices, raised in game and in song, accompanied by fiddles and pipes. On the bedside table lay Lily’s earrings, their polished copper reflecting the brilliance of the stars. She took a sip of wine that left spice on her tongue, and then set the cup on the bed table, too, next to two pistols and Cecco’s notorious knife. His cutlass hung on the hard wooden wall. A boarding ax hung there, too, kin to Lily’s tribal tomahawks.
Lily chuckled to think of her daring in coming aboard. “Although the life I chose requires independence, this adventure has swept me beyond my ken.” After the initial sensation that her feet could find no security, she had learned that the rocking of the decks could be soothing. Lying now on the captain’s bed, Lily was enchanted with the motion, and delighted with the sense of novelty to be found upon Cecco’s ship.
Although she had boarded eagerly, she had done so at Jill’s request. Her visit was a gesture of reassurance, not just to steady Raven before her travels, but for the Women of the Clearing, too, who would feel concern for Raven as she sailed. Lily knew what conditions a woman of the tribe might seek, to achieve some degree of comfort on a voyage. She had also made one last check on Mrs. Hanover’s health, bringing Lelaneh’s remedies for the baby’s well-being. The little mother seemed satisfied, and prepared for this passage. Lily herself considered the ship large, stark, and disorienting, but she discovered that the captain’s quarters, with its padding and privacy, would feel welcoming enough to Raven. Now cozy and at home here herself, Lily nestled against the captain’s shoulder, inhaling his masculine scent and enjoying the feeling of being anchored in his arms.
Cecco said, “You have become an adventuress, like my Jill.”
“I am complimented. Even more so now that I have viewed her image on the
figurehead of the Black Chief’s ship, up close.”
“Indeed, Lily. The only change I would make upon my lovely Red Lady is to place that mermaid at her prow. And, of course, to bring her inspiration to live here with me, too.” Cecco smiled, somberly.
“Perhaps Raven will enjoy watching out this window as much as I do. I have lived here all my life, and never fully observed the Island from the sea. How small the land and its natives must seem to you, Captain, who travel the Wider World.”
“Not small, Lily, and not insignificant. We sailors have forsaken our homes, and turn to this one. To most of us, you and this place are our haven. We do not love to leave it.”
“And this time, you take one of us born here away with you.”
“Only a short way, and only at her request.”
“Captain, will you not ask Raven to voyage on with you, instead of settling her on the Other Island? You say she called you ‘Man of the Lonely Winds.’ I know you both. The two of you are kindred spirits.”
“No, Lily. I welcome Raven, and I am gratified to be able to help her through her difficulty. But however much I care for her, I understand that she is honor-bound to her husband to follow through with her promise. Nor do I think it wise to keep her among pirates, whose ways are so strange to her.” Neither did Cecco wish to keep Raven among the one pirate— other than himself— whose ways were not just strange to her, but attractive. Cecco grimaced at the thought. Enough rivalry existed between him and his commodore without adding fuel to the fire. To allow his feelings for Raven to develop could not cheer Cecco significantly, and might cause a great deal of hurt to Jill.
“So you leave the Island as you came here. Alone.” Gently, Lily’s fingertips followed the firm curve of Cecco’s jaw. “And the Man of the Lonely Winds remains solitary through his own choice.”
